


Running With Wolves

by Not_All_Who_Wander_Are_Lost



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, BAMF Ahsoka Tano, Because I grew up with Legends, Best friend Ahsoka Tano, Blood and Violence, But also kinda sweet sometimes, Canon Divergence - Order 66, Canon-Typical Violence, Clone Wars, Clones, Clones Are People Too, Cody is a menace, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fives lives, Fives thinks he's smooth, Fix-It, Flirting, Flirty Cody, Force Ghost Qui-Gon Jinn, Force Visions, Fox gets laid, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, He will make fun of everyone equally, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, It's in my blood, Jedi, Loss of Limbs, MC is Plo's Apprentice, Major Character Injury, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Mentioned Qui-Gon Jinn, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Not a Crossover, Obi-Wan is so done, Order 66 Doesn't Happen as Planned, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Jedi Main Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plo Koon is Best Dad, Protective Wolfpack, Quote: The Force works in mysterious ways, Rex has found a woman who likes him and has no clue how to do this, Semi-Canon Compliant, Side ship- Bly and Aayla, Some Humor, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) Spoilers, Tags May Change, The Force Ships It, Tough guys with sweet girls is my jam, War, Wolffe is eternally cranky, Wolfpack-centric, bless him, dark themes, kinda slow burn, lots of ships, there's no going back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_All_Who_Wander_Are_Lost/pseuds/Not_All_Who_Wander_Are_Lost
Summary: Jalel Ke'un was always a gentle soul, more in-tune with the Force than with her own body. Plo Koon saw the potential for greatness and took her into his teaching, guiding her in the ways of the Force, offering wisdom when she demonstrated a gift of precognition. Neither expected to be caught up in a war that tears the Galaxy in two and ravages entire worlds, much less to serve as front-runners in its progress.In the midst of finding herself as a commander of the Grand Army of the Republic and the moral dilemma of how her men are viewed, Jalel struggles with dreams of a dark puppet master pulling strings in the Force. Who this figure is and what their aims are remain a mystery, but one thing is certain- not everything is what it seems, and time is shorter than anyone has realized. The Force whispers warnings of danger and Darkness and urges that a team must be formed- a motley gathering willing to fight in the shadow war that lies behind the curtain.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox/Original Female Character(s), CC-2224 | Cody/Original Female Character(s), CC-3636 | Wolffe/Original Female Character(s), CC-5052 | Bly & Aayla Secura, CT-27-5555 | Fives/Original Female Character(s), CT-7567 | Rex/Original Female Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Running With Wolves

_My master is wise, this I have only questioned once._

_His selection of me as his apprentice was the only choice I ever questioned. As a human child, there was nothing distinctive about me. I wasn’t the strongest, the best at forms, the fastest, the most dexterous, the smartest, or the best at memorizing and repeating the code. I was not beautiful, like some of my off-world clanmates. I was not the best fighter or even truly adept at using a lightsaber. Too-large eyes stared out from a freckled face under an unruly tangle of orange hair. Despite our teachers’ attempts to keep the mess back from my face in the traditional female way, the ties never seemed to work. My braid had to be done and redone to keep it from becoming a snarled mess. I tended to lose my balance when we practiced our lightsaber forms and combat maneuvers, especially in my teen years, when my body grew suddenly in the approach to adulthood._

_In physical capability, I fell in the lower half of the class. In intellectual challenges, I was mediocre. But in the Force...in the Force I found my strength. It spoke to me in dreams and nudges, guiding me as I learned. Master Yoda encouraged me to immerse myself in understanding the energy around me more fully when I realized that I couldn’t keep up with the natural talents of my classmates. I worked hard to master serenity, to release my negative emotions to the force and reign in the more exuberant ones. I focused on extending my senses, seeking out the signatures of the others around me and familiarizing myself with them. I sought out the teaching of other masters in the evening hours, after our day of training had concluded. Master Yoda always made time for younglings outside of his normal classes and taught me much about the ways of the Force, how it moves and connects and can be used to heal and aid. He also taught me how to sift through the things it showed me, to be wary of the visions and heed them. Master Windu, the few times I interacted with him, took a few precious moments to explain how the Force could be molded into a powerful weapon in order to protect myself and others. Master Mundi explained the necessity of intellectual study, that knowledge of the Force deepened understanding. Master Shaak-Ti told me about the importance of compassion combined with strength. Others drifted across my path, or I drifted across theirs, as the years went by. I absorbed all I could, shaping myself into the Jedi I believed it was necessary to be._

_There was one other master I distinctly remember. He was not often at the Temple, and I had the impression that the relationship he held with the other adults was tenuous. He found me in the meditation gardens one evening, struggling to release my frustrations into the Force. When he asked me why I was having difficulty, I explained to him that I could not easily keep up with my classmates, and this caused irritation. I knew that I should not allow myself to feel negative emotions because it was not the Jedi way. He smiled gently beneath his beard and mustache and eased himself into a meditation pose beside me. Then, he explained to me that emotions in and of themselves were not Dark. It was natural to experience frustration, but important to analyze the cause and determine whether it was a problem that could be fixed rather than simply becoming irritated. For two hours, he taught me the intricacies of the Code and the necessity of understanding emotion rather than simply pushing it away._

_I saw him only in passing after that, on rare occasions when he and his Padawan returned from missions. We never spoke, never interacted, and I never learned his name until much later._

_The first time I interacted with the master who would claim me as his apprentice, I was thirteen. I knew him, of course. He was a member of the High Council, one of the masters every youngling aspired to be like one day. I came across him when I was exercising my abilities in the Force, moving a small orb from one end of the garden walkway to the other. It had become such a common exercise that I no longer struggled with it, though I often attempted to find ways to make it more difficult for myself in order to extend my capabilities. I sensed him, of course- such a distinct and large Force signature was difficult to ignore- but chose not to interact with him. He paused for a while, watching me. This wasn’t unusual- Masters often checked on the progress of the younglings, preparing to make their selection if so needed. It was nothing out of the ordinary, still, it’s a moment that will never leave my mind._

_I’ll never forget how gracefully tranquil he looked as he stepped onto the path, gently pulling the orb from my grasp and bringing it into his upturned palm. I relaxed, watching curiously as he closed his clawed fingers around it. The soft hiss of his breathing apparatus blended in with the sounds of natural life in the garden and, though I couldn’t see his eyes behind their protective coverings, I had the sense that he was observing me. His hand dipped slightly as he weighed the orb, then he hummed thoughtfully._

_“Surprisingly heavy for a youngling,”_

_I had recently increased the weight, trading out a lighter ball for one normally used by the older Padawan learners. The quartermaster had only let me take it after I demonstrated that I was ready to use it._

_I nodded once._

_“I just began using this weight, Master Koon.”_

_It was a simple fact, a reply for his observation, nothing more. He hummed again, and again I had the feeling that those hidden eyes were observing me._

_“Master Yoda has mentioned your strength in the Force,” he approached with unhurried steps, “I wanted to see for myself.”_

_When he reached me, he held out his hand. I extended my own and he deposited the orb into my palm. It was heavy enough that the muscles of my arm immediately tensed to hold the weight, straining beneath my shirt. It’s different with the Force. The orb is just an orb, any illusion of weight disappears. The Force is stronger than my muscles, weight doesn’t matter to It. At a nod and a murmur of encouragement, I set off on my exercise again. Master Plo Koon watched me for some time, suggesting various maneuvers to determine the extent of my abilities. When the sun was nothing but a fiery glow on Corescant’s skyline he told me that I should rest. After bidding me a good evening, and returning my bow, he disappeared into the garden again._

_I didn’t realize that he had been testing me. I only assumed he was helping me practice. It wasn’t until after my Initiate Trials that I understood the importance of that evening._

******************************************

Nothing in the Jedi training regime was aimed at preparing initiates and Padawans for combat on an open battlefield. Their combat skills were focused on dueling, defending against laser fire, and general lightsaber form knowledge. Other skills may be taught at their master’s discretion, but the Jedi were keepers of the peace. Soldiering was not in their nature or training. In Jalel Ke’un’s personal opinion, this was why the Jedi casualties of the Battle of Geonosis were so very high. There had been no other options but to move in force, but the Jedi were ill-suited for the turn the battle took. Perhaps Dooku had been aware of that. Perhaps that was all a part of his master plan. If there was a master plan. Who could know? Even Master Mundi, whose intellect was known and respected by many, could only hazard guesses as to what the former Jedi was planning. Still, guesses were better than nothing. 

Jalel often pondered over the events that had led to the war, specifically, the mass of confusion that had been the Battle of Geonosis. It had been an awe-inspiring experience, joining her master as part of the assault team placed under Master Windu. So many powerful Masters and Knights, all brought together for the sake of rescuing their own and stopping Dooku’s machinations. In the mind of a Padawan, they almost seemed invincible. The situation was disturbing but seemed to be one that would be easily handled. Master Kenobi had been captured just after reporting Dooku’s intention of creating a droid army using factories hidden on Geonosis. Their mission was to rescue him, capture Dooku and any other major players, and destroy the factory. Hopefully, they would do so before it was too late. 

The landing had been simple enough, their forces positioning themselves strategically to ensure a favorable outcome. Or, so they’d thought. After a show of force, Dooku had retaliated with more droids than they had imagined he could have at his disposal. Their assumption, and hope, that he hadn’t yet had time to build an army had been misplaced. The Jedi, despite their numbers and power, were easily overwhelmed. Long time masters and Council members were outnumbered and brought down. It had been a horrific, ground-shaking experience for all who had gone. Jedi were not immortal, but neither did they fall easily. For so many to die in such a short battle.... All of them would have died in that horrible stadium, even Jalel, her master pushing her protectively behind him, had Master Yoda not arrived with the clones. 

Jalel remembered shock, confusion, and an armored hand gripping her arm to haul her into a gunship. She had followed the commands of her master, the usually gentle-mannered Kel Dor leaving no room for argument from Jedi or clone alike. That battle marked the first time she’d ever encountered a clone, and within only minutes of its beginning, she realized just how desperately they would defend their Jedi commanders. Though even the knowledge that the Jedi _were_ commanders had been too new to process at that time. Since that time, every day had been a blur of battle and heartache. So much death and destruction. The Force cried out with it, the Dark feeding on it...

The hiss of a door opening and the tapping of armored feet was not enough to pull Jalel from her meditation, or rather what should have been her meditation. It had long since drifted off course in her pondering of the war. Part of this divergence was purposeful. She had no desire to reach out into the Force when the war raged on. Since its beginning, she had already sensed enough death for a lifetime. She had begun in proper meditation, but a brush against the Darkness and Pain felt by the injured in the med-bay had been enough to convince her to merely turn her mind to pondering, rather than experiencing the Force. She knew that Master Plo would reprimand her, ever gently, but he was busy with tactical displays and she was already too battle-weary to feel trepidation or guilt. 

She was startled when a voice spoke- a sound already made familiar by repetition. Though some of the clones were distinguishable by tenor and tone, their voices were all the same. It had been eerie, at first. Now, she was mostly used to it. She winced, her only outward display of surprise, before opening her eyes to look at the speaker. A trooper in the red-decorated armor of the 104th stood near the door, which was now an open portal into the hall beyond. He was fully armored, but his weapon was holstered. A ship security officer, then. His face hidden by his visor, he snapped to attention when she looked up at him, still in her meditation pose. 

“Commander! The general requests your presence on the bridge.”

Jalel frowned, a quiet expression. A glance at her chronometer informed her that her designated meditation time was not finished. It must be urgent. 

“Thank you,” she replied, pushing herself to her feet, “Did he mention why?”

It wasn’t a question asked in insolence, she was truly concerned. Her master had been adamant that she continue a regular training schedule, despite the outbreak of the war, and he wouldn’t interrupt the time he’d set aside for her unless it was a matter of importance. 

“We’re coming out of hyperspace, ma’am.”

Jalel nodded in understanding as she passed him, stepping into the hall. The trooper flanked her to serve as escort back to the bridge. 

“We’ve found the enemy, then?”

“I would assume so, ma’am.”

It had been a challenge to get used to the position she’d been given and the accompanying respect. She didn’t feel that she deserved it. She was a Padawan, still in training. Her Trials shouldn’t occur for at least two more standard years, though there had already been talk of expedited training for the older apprentices. She was still learning, someone to be commanded, not to be in command. It felt strange, as though she hadn’t earned her position. According to the Grand Army of the Republic’s standards however, her status as a Jedi granted her the rank. 

The thought of serving as part of a three-headed command force with a charge of a fleet and a battalion had caused her to balk at the start of the war. Even now she struggled with the idea that such a number of sentient life forms looked to her for leadership. Others seemed to have taken to the position with ease, like her contemporary, Anakin Skywalker. Her master had listened to her worries with patience and had met them with encouragement and a reminder to let the Force be her guide. Fortunately, she had him to rely on for wisdom, and Wolffe to rely on for expertise. The clone commander’s training had been specially crafted toward war, and she was grateful for his presence. 

Jalel retrieved a clip from her pocket with one hand, using the other to push her unruly hair into something of a tail. She preferred to have it down, but it tended to bramble into her face. It wouldn’t do to look unkempt when giving orders, even if it truly was just the way her hair behaved regardless of care. Even after she managed to secure it in the clip, a few shorter strands bounced loose to fall over her forehead and around her face. Without the help of specialized products to aid her in controlling it, the red mass seemed to have a will of its own. This was a fate she had resigned herself to as a young teen, unwilling to indulge in such vanity. 

Behind her the security officer was a quiet presence guarding her back. Her position made discussion awkward when she didn’t know the soldier well. She’d attempted to talk with the more unfamiliar troopers before but had found the conversation stilted. They answered her questions, but never volunteered information. Nor did they ask questions beyond requesting or clarifying pertinent information. It was difficult to maintain a conversation when the other party didn’t engage. She’d become so used to the awkwardness that it had been a shock when she came across Lifeline for the first time. The medic had requested that she undergo a physical, a standard procedure in the GAR. She’d expected it to be a simple task, with no more spoken between them than the occasional question or request. Wolffe had been the only exception, though their discourses were limited to tactical discussion and exchanges of commands with the rare observation tossed in. 

It had been a pleasant surprise when Lifeline asked her how she was faring in the 104th. The medic cross tattooed across the top of his bald head was the only thing that really set him apart from his fellows, but there had been such gentleness in his eyes and small smile that she had felt able to speak, really speak. She’d confessed that she felt lost in the war, like she was stumbling around, trying to watch what others did and emulate it in time. She’d told him that she was a Padawan, not a military leader, and that it didn’t feel right to have so many men relying on her. Lifeline’s quiet smile had grown to a flash of white teeth as he used an instrument to check her heart’s functionality. 

“You’ll do just fine, Commander. I think you’ve got a good heart- not just the physical one. It’s doing fine, by the way,” he’d said with a chuckle, “We’re gonna need that when we’re all good and tired of fighting. You leave the hard stuff to Wolffe, he can handle it. And trust us to get you through, alright?”

It had been such a human response, so normal, that she’d been put instantly at ease. To Jalel, most clones had been faceless figures in armor who addressed her by rank and sounded identical when they responded almost mechanically to her orders and questions. Lifeline had been the first, aside from Wolffe, to interact with her so naturally. She’d found herself smiling in return, as relaxed around a clone as she’d ever been. 

“Thank you, Lifeline. I’ll try.”

The medic had given her what she interpreted as a fond look. 

“I believe you will, ma’am,” he’d moved away, inputting data into a log, “The others were right about you. You’re a good egg.”

The compliment had been so unexpected, especially since he mentioned that it had come from others, that she’d been unable to do more than mutter something like gratitude. Then the thought had come that at least she was well-liked, even if she didn’t feel like she knew what she was doing. It was reassuring. 

That interaction had also made her more aware of the men she commanded. The officer escorting her at a respectful two steps behind, those she passed in the halls of the command ship, who greeted her with a nod and a quick “commander” or “ma’am”. Before, she’d simply nodded in return, not thinking much of the smiles she gave in return. Apparently, the men had taken more notice of them than she had. She had hoped that Lifeline would be accompanying them on this mission, but an emergency call had led to Plo Koon sending him and a small detachment into combat with Skywalker and Kenobi a few days prior. Apparently, their most recent excursion had resulted in heavy losses. Hopefully, Lifeline and his team were still unharmed.

She rounded a corner and the large reinforced door leading to the bridge split open with a hiss. Without breaking stride, she walked through, her eyes immediately finding her master where he stood before the viewport. As soon as the security officer behind her entered, he turned smartly and took a post to the side of the door. Jalel continued onward, taking in the activity of the bridge in her periphery. Identical men rushed about or sat at stations, keeping the flagship of the 104th’s fleet operational. Jalel had noticed that comm’s officers and bridge technicians tended to do less to identify themselves than regular troops. Was it a difference in demeanor? Or a pressure to maintain a level of professionalism because of where they served? She wasn’t sure. As she’d been observing, she’d come to the realization that though their exteriors were identical, the men inside were quite different. 

Wolffe was the one she interacted with the most, and she could confidently say he had some tells that set him apart from the others. Even in the short months since the beginning of the war, she’d learned how to tell when he was irritated- which was often- versus when he was just being stoic. His jaw tended to clench when he was working to control his expression and his eyes narrowed whenever he was conveying a silent warning to one of his men. That had been an amusing realization, made when Boost had been ready to make a comment in front of both Jalel and Plo Koon that, apparently, Wolffe didn’t feel needed to be made. Boost’s sudden silence had prompted Jalel to turn her attention to the Commander, who was doing a fine job of conveying a silent threat to the trooper. She’d found it difficult not to smile, despite the seriousness of the moment, because it reminded her all too much of the way she’d seen parents deal with unruly children. Fortunately, he seemed to be in a fine mood at the moment.

Sensing her approach, her master turned to regard her. The Kel Dor were not a beautiful race, indeed, many thought them to be quite ugly, particularly when without their protective gear. Jalel had never minded. To her, Plo Koon was as close to a father as she had, not remembering her own from her distant childhood. His deep voice, as familiar as any sound could be, had long been a source of comfort. Even the soft hiss of his breathing apparatus set her at ease, simply because it meant that he was near. As any child might with a parental figure, Jalel always felt a sense of well-being when with her master, even in the most desperate of situations. The elder jedi’s face shifted in what Jalel had long ago come to recognize as his variation of a smile and he subtly extended a clawed hand. Jalel reached out as she stepped to his side, her fingertips barely brushing his. It was an old greeting, born from the days of her timid childhood when she’d first become his Padawan and subconsciously sought physical reassurance of her master’s presence. Even now, in young adulthood, it soothed something within her. 

“I apologize for cutting your meditation short, but we believe we’ve found our mystery weapon.”

Jalel glanced to the Commander at his side, who briefly met her gaze and gave a nod of confirmation. Returning it, she replied to her master. 

“I don’t mind, master. I just want this issue resolved so that we can focus on ending this war, and not worrying about when this thing might creep up behind us.”

Plo Koon nodded, humming in response. Still, his gaze lingered. 

“...You are still having difficulty in your meditations.”

Jalel felt a flicker of disappointment in herself. She was too easy to read, even after her practice in achieving serenity. Still, it was an observation, not a chastisement, and so she simply responded honestly.

“Yes.”

Plo Koon nodded, settling a heavy hand upon his Padawan’s shoulder.

“Perhaps, after this mission, we will discuss some methods that might help you.”

Jalel bowed her head slightly in acceptance of the suggestion. Only once had she ever questioned her master’s wisdom. She was certain that whatever he may have her attempt would be helpful. With the war pressing in on all sides, there was a constant feeling that she was running out of time. Older Padawans were being Knighted before their time more and more often. The usual Trials were set aside in favor of ‘Trial of Combat’. The need for more independent Jedi was a constant, particularly in their push to end the fighting quickly. She knew that her master felt it, too. He was teaching her more persistently, constantly slipping in wisdom and new knowledge at every opportunity. More worrying than that, though, was his praise. The gentle reminders that she was nearing the completion of her training. 

Plo Koon must have read the melancholy change because his grip on her shoulder tightened and he shifted, as though to speak again. Before their conversation could continue, Wolffe stepped in. 

“Sir, we’re coming out of lightspeed.”

The comfort of her master’s clawed hand slipped away as Wolffe turned and began barking orders, ensuring that the men were ready as the ship came out of the white of hyperspace. Quickly, she followed the pair to the command table on the far side of the control deck. Another thing she disliked about the war was how loud it was. Explosions, shouting, gunfire, all of it was unsettling after the tranquility she’d been brought up in. She especially disliked when it came from her own men. They seemed to have taken note of this and made an effort to tone down their volume when in enclosed spaces. At least, she’d caught their semi-apologetic looks when she visibly winced in response to an order being shouted too near her ear. 

The ship’s gravity compensated for the sudden decrease in velocity, ensuring that none of them felt more than a soft whooshing sensation as they halted in space. Around the command ship, the rest of the fleet emerged as well. Despite the impressiveness of the sight, Jalel’s attention was held by the single battleship outlined by the brilliant red planet behind it. She felt herself slipping into the roll of soldier, analyzing the ship for strengths and weaknesses. Its most prominent feature, the large disks on either side of the vessel, was the most obvious difference from other Separatist Destroyers. As soon as she saw it, squinting against the brightness of its backdrop to make out the details, a foreboding chill crept up her spine. 

“Master…”

“I know. Raise shields and prepare for battle.”

Another series of commands were issued, officers relaying the orders their Generals had given. The room erupted in chatter. It had been disconcerting, the first time she’d heard it. Now, it was familiar- the usual prerequisite to a battle. 

Jalel glanced down at the tactical hologram on the table, taking in the display of the fleet and the single ship. Then, even as she began to turn her mind toward the possible strategies for this confrontation, as Plo Koon and Wolffe had been instructing her to do, the Force seemed to tense. Jalel’s eyes snapped up as the enemy ship fired a shot from one of the disks on its side. White energy tore through space in a rotating circle. 

“Evasive action!”

The cry came from her own lips. Across the table, Wolffe moved to relay the order. Then, too quickly, the shot struck. 

It was not explosive, like she had expected. Jalel felt the system power down, the usual tell-tale thrumming of the ship’s life under the deck disappeared. Distantly, her mind registered the term ‘ion weapon’. Then, the shouting around her pulled her back into the moment at hand. 

“We’ve lost power, sir!”

“All systems failing!”

“Shields are down!”

“Artillery is offline!”

The ship rocked, then, pushed by the explosion of the cruiser floating ahead of it. Jalel gritted her teeth as the deaths of those aboard flooded the Force. In the wake of their powerlessness, the Separatist ship had opened fire, easily picking off the downed fleet. Suddenly, Jalel understood how they had already lost so many fleets to this ‘mystery weapon’. The enemy’s tactic was simple and brutally effective: disable a fleet with their ion weapon, and then take it apart with heavy artillery. 

She barely registered her master’s command to retreat to the life pods. Within the span of a few minutes, everything had changed so quickly. A firm hand clamped down on her arm, pulling her along with the men fleeing the command deck. Jalel wasn’t sure to whom it belonged. Her eyes remained focused on the horror beyond the viewport, the ship on their starboard side combusting, the tell-tale figures of men rupturing into empty space. She was consumed by numbness and a single thought. 

_How do I command in this?_


End file.
